


Operation Sheets

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Banter, Consensual Sex, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Light Bondage, POV Second Person, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: Making the bed is always an adventure, even moreso when Conrad shows you another use for fresh bedsheets.
Relationships: James Conrad/Reader, James Conrad/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Operation Sheets

“That doesn’t go there!”

“I believe that I know how to properly make a bed, darling,” Conrad replied dryly, standing up straight from the bed with the top sheet gathered in his hands.

You stubbornly held onto the other end of the sheet, keeping him from tucking it into the bottom of the bed as he had been trying to do before you stopped him with your outburst. “I fully believe that _you_ believe you know how to do it, but the top sheet doesn’t get tucked in.”

He yanked hard on the sheet, ripping the slippery fabric through your fingertips. With the barest hint of a smug smile, he got back to work.

“No, you don’t,” you cried, throwing yourself down onto the mattress, pinning the material beneath your body. “You aren’t turning our bed into a foot prison! Especially when we both just kick it back out anyways.”

His large hand settled on your hips, rolling you over onto your back so you were grinning mischievously up at him. It was truly unfair how he was still so attractive upside down, causing your stomach to clench as your eyes followed the sharp line of his clean-shaven jaw up to his piercing blue eyes.

“I spent several years in the military. I know how to make a proper bed,” he replied stonily. With absolutely no warning, he flipped the sheet over you, trapping you in a cocoon of clean-smelling linens. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

You squirmed on the bed, wiggling and giggling as he climbed onto the mattress and straddled your hips so he could fully encase your torso and arms. When he was finished he supported his upper half on his hands beside your head, towering over you with a pleased gleam in his eyes.

“I am not a bed, and I don’t think that this is proper technique,” you grumbled, doing your best to appear upset, but even you could hear the smile lacing your words.

He narrowed his eyes at you, drawing his gaze down your restrained form as if he were carefully analyzing his handiwork. “No, I do believe that this is the proper form. Or I may have gotten it confused with trapping a mouthy combatant.”

You bucked your hips up against his, pleased when his breath hitched in his throat and his pupils expanded to hide all but the outer ring of the stormy blue eyes that held yours. “All I know is,” you said slowly, rolling your pelvis against the hardening length of his arousal against your lower belly, “one of us is right, and the other one is you.”

“Really?” he asked, shifting so that he could draw a finger down the side of your face, dragging over your collarbones. “Because you seem to be the one who cannot move, so I’m not sure you have much room to speak.”

You rolled your eyes before arching your hips against him once again. “I’m not sure why we’re still speaking at all with that in between us.”

“Fair point.”

He quickly bent down over you, lavishing open-mouthed kisses on the smooth column of your throat that sent waves of desire to the apex of your thighs. The hand that had been teasing your collarbones descended to trace over the curve of your breast, but only lightly, the touch more frustrating than pleasing with the several layers of fabric separating you. 

His lips curved into a smile at your whine of desperation, and you groaned at the obvious enjoyment dancing in his eyes when he lifted his head. He silenced your various noises of discontent with the slant of his mouth over yours, the taste of his toothpaste cool and sharp and tightening in your stomach almost as much as his hand as it forged a path up your thigh.

With a parting nip on your bottom lip, he left you, moving down the bed to gaze appreciatively at the skin he revealed as he pushed the sheet up to gather around your waist. Your back arched off of the bed at the touch of his fingertip over the soaked cotton of your underwear, hissing your breath through your clenched teeth.

The cool air of his breath through pursed lips onto your throbbing and heated center was almost your undoing. It was the sweetest torture, your hands digging into the fabric of your shirt beneath your trappings as you slowly lost yourself to the ecstasy brought about by his darting tongue and thrusting fingers. You longed to run your hands through his short reddish-blond hair, anchor his chin in between your legs, hold onto his broad shoulders for some sort of tether to this world, but all were denied you. The man knew his way around your body, and he snapped the coil of tension inside you quickly, humming his appreciation for your quickly-reached orgasm against your soft lower belly.

You were still trembling from the aftershocks when he released you from the sheet, unwrapping you efficiently before he divested himself of his own clothing to wrap himself in protection. Your sleepshirt was practically ripped from you and tossed across the room. He rolled you onto your sides, throwing your leg over his hip and wrapping his arms around you to hold you steady for his relentless thrusting into you.

The sight of him slowly succumbing to his pleasure, the clench of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils and the furrow of his brow, did more to stimulate you back towards your second orgasm than his hips rolling into the hardened bundle of nerves at the top of your sex. Your hands found purchase around his back, clinging onto his shoulders so that your chests were pressed tightly together, dragging his fine chest hair across your nipples in electric shocks that went straight to your core.

His forehead fell against yours, and his panted breaths quickened as they blew across your flushed face. Your moans joined together in the room, increasing in volume as his hips increased their speed, slamming into you and lighting you up from the inside out.

You cried out your pleasure into his cheek, his hips snapping into yours only a few times more before he did the same into your ear with a low groan that made goosebumps spread across your skin.

He rolled away from you to dispose of the condom before sprawling out onto his back, tugging you towards him with his hand on your shoulder. You resisted, slipping out from his grasp to kneel on the bed beside him. Quickly you gathered the sheets into your hands, wrapping his arms against his torso in a way that trapped him almost as thoroughly as he had done to you earlier.

“What are you doing, love?” he asked, laughter and exhaustion weighing equally on his smooth accented voice.

You smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead before kneeling in between his legs. Your hands settled on his muscular thighs, fingernails lightly rasping against his skin. “Giving you a taste of your own medicine, of course.”


End file.
